If I Could Will You Whole
by Spiralled
Summary: It was doubtful that Inara could help, even if he could explain it properly. It wasn't a new problem, but the fact River was doing better in so many other ways made it all the worse.


_Please, Simon! No more. I don't want to bleed. I want to laugh. No more poison. Please!_

"Tea?" Inara asked.

Simon jumped in his seat as she held the dented galley pot before him. How had she managed to enter the galley, boil water and steep tea without his notice? "Uh, yes. Thank you."

"You were quite caught up in your thoughts," she noted as she filled his cup and then her own.

A polite understatement. "My apologies for my rudeness."

"No apology necessary." She tucked herself into the chair beside him. "May I ask what is troubling you so? You and Kaylee haven't had a spat, have you?"

He shook his head. "And given my ability to say the most Ijing tsai/i things, that's nothing short of a well-appreciated miracle."

"Then that leaves either A: you and the Captain are butting heads over something, or B: it's River." She leaned in conspiratorially. "Now that I think of it, when you argue, it's usually about River."

Inara laughed lightly and Simon couldn't help but join in, but then felt himself edging toward something far too out of control. Tamping down the emotion, he sighed. "This time it's just River. Not that there's any 'just' about her."

"What is the matter?"

He pushed the palms of his hands against the table, pressing his fingers apart and studying them. It was doubtful that Inara could help, even if he could explain it properly. It wasn't a new problem, but the fact River was doing better in so many other ways made it all the worse.

"A burden shared is halved."

He glanced up, then let his eyes drop again, studying the grain of well-worn table. "She's still terrified of needles. It's unlikely that she'll ever not need medication. And drawing blood… There are things they did to her that medicine can't fix."

Inara didn't reply, but he knew if he were to meet her eyes that they'd be full of sympathy. While he appreciated it, it made him uncomfortable. As if accepting sympathy meant accepting defeat.

"I shouldn't have bothered you with this." He meant to leave, but she was standing and lightly pressing on his shoulder.

"Nonsense," she said.

After fetching the teapot, she refilled both of their cups, then sipped hers, seemingly as lost in thought as he had been earlier. Simon savored his own cup. It was a good tea, sweet tasting, though it wasn't sugared. Maybe someday Kaylee would coax the recipe for the blend out of Inara. If his sister didn't reverse engineer it first. The sharp click of Inara's cup on the table drew his attention back to the moment.

"A Companion's training is more diversified than most people realize."

Simon tried, unsuccessfully, not to blush. As a teen, he and his friends had very vivid imaginations about Companion training. Reality was equally more exotic and more mundane than they'd imagine. And he had no idea what the connection was between his problem and her training. When in doubt, manners. And neutral topics. "Such as counseling."

"Yes. It's one hue in a pallet of therapeutic arts. Another one is zhēn biān."

"Do clients often request acupuncture?"

"Not as often as there is need. In the black, one's qi can quickly slip out of harmony with the universe."

"If the crew of _Serenity_ is any example, disequilibrium is the rule, not the exception." How had the conversation shifted to this? It was unlike Inara to change topics, let alone turn it to herself.

"I can see the question in your eyes." She laid her hands, palms up, on the table. "I was reflecting on how different the experience of acupuncture is than the way needles were used against your sister.

"They took away her sense of safety and security when they experimented on her, and I would imagine that the needles represent that." She paused, seeking confirmation.

"I agree with your assessment, but—"

Inara held up her hand, stopping him. "She needs to regain a sense of control, to control the needles instead of feeling controlled by them."

"What are you suggesting?" he asked, both cautious and curious. If she had an idea that could help River, he was willing to explore it fully.

"What if River learned to work with needles?"

"Shuh muh?" Surely he'd misheard her. No sane person would put needles in River's hands.

"Hear me out," she requested. "I'm not suggesting she draw blood or inject anything in anyone. I was thinking of teaching her the craft of zhēn biān."

"You… what?" He should have realized this was where she was going, but it still caught him off guard, leaving him with no response but poorly formed questions.

"I would like to teach the craft to River – if both of you were agreeable to the idea."

He paced the galley, uncertain when he'd left the table. Inara had seen the carnage of which River was capable – and that was when she started without a weapon in her hand. "You'd do this for her? Put a sharp object in her hand and trust her with it?"

"I trust her with more than that." She folded her hands neatly in front of herself. "She saved my life, the lives of this entire crew. If, in a small way, I can give her life more pleasure, it is the least I can do."

He gripped the nearest chair back, trying to steady himself. "Thank you. It's a generous offer. It means… more than you can imagine, hearing you speak of River with such esteem. But please," he met her eyes, trying to hold his voice steady, "please don't say this out of some misplaced sense of duty."

"Oh, Simon."

He thought she'd say more, but whatever it might have been, she kept her own council. He dropped into a chair across from her. "My apologies. I fear I've offended you."

"No offense taken. Though you are nearly as skilled as Mal at being extraordinarily exasperating. There is a season for all things. Perhaps it is your season to stop carrying the sole responsibility of River's well-being." It was her turn to hold his gaze. "Have you considered that if asked, River might say yes? That she might be eager to learn?"

One of his rotations had included zhēn biān. Though his marks were strong, he knew he lacked the intuition to excel at it. He imagined River with those gossamer needles, anticipating she'd master them like everything else she tried her hand at. Against good judgment, he found himself smiling. Knowing his mei mei, she'd probably discover new techniques.

"Learning is like breathing to her." He sighed. "Do you genuinely think this can end well? Or at least not end badly?"

"Yes. I would not have offered otherwise. There is one caveat."

"Only one?"

"We will need a patient."

He knew what was needed, and he was willing, but couldn't resist saying, "I volunteer Jayne."

"Volunteer? Other than Jayne, the entire crew would chip in to fund that job."

He indulged in the image of Jayne, wide-eyed, with River bent at the waist, hovering above him, holding a needle between his eyes. Not that he wanted to see Jayne come to real harm. And it was yet another reminder of the dozen ways this could go wrong. But the risk was worth it if it held the possibility to help River. "Yes."

An eyebrow rose. "Yes?"

"You need a patient. My answer is yes. Though I'll warn you, doctors are notoriously bad patients."

Inara smiled. "We'll make do. Perhaps we will even loosen some of your tension."

He smiled back. "Perhaps."

~.~.~

Glossary:  
Jing tsai – Brilliant  
Shuh muh – What?  
Zhēn biān - Acupuncture


End file.
